Dark Reflection

Chapter 51

"Reconciliation"

by Lilyjack

Warning: After the first, oh ¼ of this chapter, today's installment contains smokin' hot consensual relations between two loving adults. A whole passel of it. Because after fifty chapters, those two lovebirds doggone well deserve it. Just sayin'… So, if you aren't into smut biscuits dripping with butter and honey, accompanied by boatloads of emotional bonding and sexual healing that would make Marvin Gaye proud, you might wanna put down the digital device and walk away. Come back and meet us again in Chapter 52. 😉 I definitely do not wish to offend anyone's delicate sensibilities or singe their corneas. (Oh, wait, there's also some post-coital expositional dialogue at the end, so maybe you could fast forward through the set-yer-drawers-on-fire naughty bits?) I hope you enjoy.

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Acrid black smoke clouded the air as Kitty hit her practice target and lowered her shotgun, levering it and reloading as quickly as possible. She aimed to be prepared for the battle ahead, one that would finally take place in a day or two hence if everything went according to plan.

"Kitty, honey…" Matt pleaded. "Why are you bein' so stubborn?"

"Stubborn?" she abruptly retorted, eyes flashing. "I'm not bein' stubborn. It's you whose bein' stubborn, Matt Dillon. Why the hell would you teach me to shoot if you didn't want me to fight?"

"I taught you t' shoot a gun so you could defend yourself. I didn't mean for you to go lookin' for trouble."

Kitty turned sharply and stared at him. "I didn't go lookin' for trouble, Matt. It found me."

"But… I…" Matt began in frustration, then changed tacks in mid-sentence. "Listen, this operation is gonna be dangerous as hell, Kitty. There may be bullets flyin'. I don't want you t' get hurt."

"Too late for that," she remarked grimly, turning and firing two more rounds.

"Aw, Kitty… I just don't wanna see you hurt any more than you already have been. Don't you see that?"

"Don't you see how important this is to me? Matt, this is personal."

"I understand how important this is to you, but…"

Kitty interrupted, "Am I a pretty fair shot now, Matt?"

"Well…yeah, Kitty, but…"

"And did you or did you not say in the warehouse meetin' that it was gonna take everybody doin' their part for us to win?'

"Now hold on." He conciliated, "There are ways you can help that don't involve putting yourself into the line of fire. You could be killed."

"What about you?" she demanded, placing a hand obstinately on her hip.

"Whatta you mean?"

"You could be killed, too," she pointed out, her eyebrows furrowing.

"That's different, Kitty."

"How?" she challenged.

"Well…" he replied unthinkingly, "…cause it's my job."

"Whatta you mean? This isn't your job, Matt Dillon. But this is my life, and Silas Blackthorne tried to take my life away. He locked me up and nearly killed me. And he did worse than just kill me, Matt. He hurt me in ways I don't know that'll ever heal. You should know that by now." She stood staring a hot hole in him, her lips pressed together resolutely.

He didn't know what else to say to her. The thought of Kitty hurtling headlong into the middle of a potential gun battle scared him spitless.

Kitty heaved an exasperated sigh and, hoisting her shotgun over her shoulder, she grabbed her saddlebag and turned on her heel. "I'm gonna wash up and get lunch ready," she tersely threw back at him as she stalked away, giving him no opportunity to follow.

Matt frowned, stewing unhappily. He cocked the hammer of his Colt and stared down the barrel at a tin can in the distance. Pulling the trigger several times in rapid succession, he hit his target four out of five times. Not bad since he'd been trying to get his eye, and his aim, back in shape. It felt pretty good when he pretended that tin can was Silas Blackthorne's hollow, black heart.

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Matt kneeled beside the creek and cupped clear, cold water into his hands, drinking deeply. Scooping up more, he splashed his perspiring face, the back of his neck and his throat, sighing appreciatively. Matt could feel Kitty's presence before he saw her.

She casually stretched out an arm and handed him a cake of soap. "Here," she offered in a subdued tone.

Squinting against the sun, he glanced up at her, answering appreciatively, "Thanks." He could see she had already washed off the lead stains and black powder residue. Her skin was still dewy, and wet tendrils, escaping from the heavy braid falling down her back, clung to her face and the nape of her neck.

She walked away, and he resumed splashing in the water, managing to get himself reasonably clean. Shaking droplets from his head, hair and hands, he pulled a worn bandanna from his pocket to mop at his face a little. He could feel her watching him silently. Grabbing his hat from the ground next to him, he stood and turned to look back at her. She was waiting about halfway between him and the blanket she'd spread for them on the ground. Her hands were planted stolidly on her trouser-clad hips.

"What'sa matter?" he asked, smiling amiably but cautiously, hat in hand.

Staring down at her boots, she hesitated a beat before answering, "I'm sorry, Matt."

"Kitty…" he began, but she quickly interrupted.

"No, Matt, let me say this," she insisted, eyeing him earnestly. "I just…I'm not used to men orderin' me around is all, tryin' to tell me what t' do. Aside from my boss at work, that is. And lately, I've been the boss. You hafta understand that."

"I understand, Kitty."

"I've just never had a man really give a damn about me before, outside a' how I could benefit him. Well, except for Chester, that is. This - " She pointed to him, then back at herself. "…us. I'm just not used to it, I guess you could say."

Matt stood, at a loss for words for a moment, heartsick listening to a girl who'd been abandoned by her father and used by most all the men in her life, excepting Chester, of course, until very recently when she'd stumbled upon a whole passel a' men who did give a damn about what happened to her. "Kitty, I just…" He finally tried offering an explanation. "I just care about you very much. That's why I wanna keep you outta harm's way."

A corner of her mouth quirked up, an auburn eyebrow along with it. "I think I'm finally startin' to believe ya'."

"Really?" he asked, beating his dusty hat on a long leg and stuffing his bandanna back in a pocket. "I'd say it's about high time." He grinned at her, relief evident in his features.

Shifting her booted feet, she drily remarked, "Well, I've been told I can be pretty stubborn at times."

"Ya' don't say?" He grinned again, choking back a laugh.

She jammed her fists into her baggy men's trouser pockets and answered with chagrin, "Mmm-hm."

"Well, maybe what some people call stubbornness…" Matt proposed, looking at her thoughtfully. "…others think of as grit and determination." His voice gentled, "You're a fighter, Kitty, and a survivor. That's part a' what I like about you."

She intently smiled at him, a gleam in her eye. "So, you really do like me, don'tcha, Matt Dillon." It was finally a statement of fact in her mind, no longer a question.

"Yep." His tousled, dark curls shone in the sunlight, softly blown by the prairie wind. He winked at her, then began loping across the grass to their blanket under the shade tree, motioning for her to come, too. Tossing his hat on the ground, he turned to face her, hooking his thumbs in his belt. She'd halted a few steps away again, observing him pensively.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothin'," she answered quietly, that gleam still in her eye. They both stood for a few moments, wordlessly contemplating one another. Finally, Kitty spoke, her voice husky and resolute. "Take off your clothes, Matt."

His eyebrows shot up. "Huh?"

"You heard me." She was biting her thumbnail, gazing at him from beneath her lashes.

His eyes darted around. "But what about…"

"Sam is visitin' with Horace today. I made sure," Kitty emphatically stated.

"You did?"

"Yep," she replied with certainty, still worrying her thumbnail. She looked at him with sultry deep blue eyes, murmuring quietly this time, "Take your clothes off, Matt."

Looking around cautiously, and they could see for miles in virtually every direction, Matt thrust his hands onto his hips. "Are you serious?"

"Mm-hmm…" She gave a small nod in the affirmative.

"Okay…" he drawled uncertainly. Clearing his throat self-consciously, he slowly began unbuttoning his shirt, wanting to suggest she do the same but afraid he'd either spoil the moment and end his chances at making love to Kitty or perhaps even frighten her again with behavior she might consider aggressive. Behavior she'd considered aggressive ever since Silas Blackthorne had gotten hold of her, that is.

"No union suit again, I see." She lifted a brow appreciatively, watching his every movement.

"Nope," he snorted sheepishly.

They chorused, "Too damn hot." Their mouths twitched at the corners as they spoke simultaneously.

"I'm scandalized, Mr. Dillon," she teased, her eyes sparkling.

"Don't call me that, honey," he mock-scolded her. "It makes me think a' Chester."

"Doesn't anybody else call you 'Mr. Dillon?'"

"Yeah, but he calls me that the most." Matt fumbled nervously with the buttons on his cuff.

She ambled the remaining distance between them. "Here, let me…"

Matt watched Kitty squint a little as she worked, aching to kiss her, to put his hands on her, but after their last encounter, he was afraid to. Afraid of triggering another waking nightmare like she'd suffered before. He wasn't sure what to do. So, he just stood perfectly still, watching her, his skin tingling at the possibility that he just might get to hold her in his arms, to make love to her again at long last.

"There," she murmured, reaching to smooth her hands over the dark blue cotton chambray material on his shoulders, his chest. She noted, "Your shirt is wet."

"So is yours." He nodded to where she'd splashed her own clothing while washing up, same as him.

Her tongue touched her front teeth as her eyes flicked up to his. "This has gotta come off." She pushed the shirt slowly off his shoulders and down his arms, letting it drop to the blanket. Matt stood naked to the waist. Kitty's eyes drank him in.

He reached for the buttons on the front of her shirt. She grabbed his wrists, blocking him, clutching him tightly. "Don't," she insisted, her voice suddenly hard-edged.

She looked up at him tentatively, afraid he would take offense. "Let me do it," she conceded. Unfastening, one by one, the buttons of her dark shirt, she let it fall from her shoulders, revealing a white, cap-sleeved chemise beneath tucked into her trousers. It was made of soft, gauzy material that hinted at the unbound curves that lay beneath. One delicate sleeve had slipped down, leaving her shoulder bare. Matt hungered to smooth his hand over that exposed creamy skin, but he caught himself in time. He needed to let her set the pace.

She skimmed her hands over his broad, bare chest and shoulders, down his arms and over his trim sides. He shivered at her touch. She smiled, relishing the effect her actions had on this giant of a man. Her fingers lingered over scars, neatly stitched by some doctor in the past, after being shot or stabbed by a desperate outlaw. He had indeed told her in not so many words that he'd been a lawman. He'd come by these marks honorably, upholding the law and the safety of innocents. It made her chest swell with pride.

She lingered also on his bruises, faded yet still visible. She now realized Matt had received these injuries because of her, because he'd tried to save her and been beaten for his troubles. While this thought pained her, paradoxically, it stirred Kitty somewhere deep within that someone cared enough for her to brave such a thing.

Her eyes were then drawn to the line of dark hair on his flat stomach that traveled inexorably below the waistband his trousers. That dark trail, and the ardent expression on Matt's face when she pierced him with her eyes, made her ache low in her belly. "Take off your belt, Matt…" She looked at his holster and wryly amended, "Your belts."

With a practiced hand, he made double-quick work of his worn, leather gun belt, letting it drop gently atop the grass at the edge of the blanket, his trouser belt joining it. Slipping her fingers beneath his waistband, she gripped the front of his pants, and slowly but unwaveringly drew him closer. Her thumb circled his top button as she gazed up at him. Then she unfastened those buttons slowly, lingering on each one, savoring the longing expression on his face as she did so. The tip of her index finger traced that dark line on his belly downward. Matt's breath quickened as he gazed at her fervently.

Her hand found his silken skin already hot to the touch, ready for her. She encircled him firmly, stroking him languorously, sliding her thumb over the tip. She heard him swear under his breath.

Her lips parted as she tipped her head back to look up at him, murmuring, "Kiss me, Matt."

He kissed her hard, capturing her mouth, searing her with his heat. His hoarse whisper appealed, "Can I hold you…?"

She nodded. He slipped his long arms around Kitty and urgently embraced her while she caressed him, pleasuring him with her touch. His head fell back, his lips parted as he groaned in passionate abandon.

Finally, he urgently requested, "Stop, Kitty…ya' gotta stop now. Honey…"

She released him, her hands sliding up to his chest, his shoulders, relishing the feel of his taut muscles. "You sure…?" she questioned enticingly.

Sweat beaded his forehead. "Yep…" He bent his head low to place another blistering kiss on her soft lips as he blindly reached to unfasten her belt.

She caught his hand, pulled her mouth from his. "I'll do it," she swiftly told him.

"Sorry, honey, I keep forgettin'." His expression was contrite. "I'm a little too eager, I guess," he apologized, giving her a weak smile.

"I like it when you're eager, Cowboy. I'll just keep reminding you to slow down a little…for me." She unbuckled her belt, never taking her eyes off him. "If ya' don't mind." Kitty released each button of her worn trousers.

"I don't mind," he murmured as he watched her.

She reached for his hand, first threading her fingers through his as she tiptoed, her soft breasts pressing against his chest through the thin cotton chemise, her lips brushing his mouth in a tender kiss. Then she gently guided his hand into her trousers, slipped it warmly between her legs, her hand atop his own. They both moaned when his fingers encountered her heated flesh. She showed him where to touch her, how to touch her, even though he was already well aware of how his Kitty wanted to be touched.

She pivoted, leaning back against him, pressing against his hard length. His arm reached over her shoulder and slid low, below the waistband of her clothing, sweetly fondling her until her chest rose and fell swiftly. She stroked his sinewy forearms as he touched her, his hot breath scorching her neck, matching the pace of her own.

He whispered in her ear, "Take those trousers off."

She nodded wordlessly, pushing them down past her hips, not taking the time to remove her shoes. Stripping the baggy pants off, she pitched them to the side; she was left clad only in her dusty, trail worn boots and the delicate lace-trimmed chemise reaching halfway down her thighs.

Matt kissed her one last time, then dropped to his knees before Kitty, her big half-naked lawman, tongue darting out to touch his bottom lip, blue eyes gazing up at her, waiting. "Pull your shirt up. Let me see you, honey," he urged her.

She slowly pulled her chemise higher, anxiously revealing herself to him, already swollen and wet from his attentions. He groaned, parting her soft auburn curls and placing a lingering kiss on her heated sex that mirrored the one he'd just given her mouth. His hot breath, soft lips and searching tongue combined to make her tremble, her head falling back weakly, soft gasps escaping her lips. Her fingers threaded through his hair, her knee slipping over his shoulder as she leaned into him.

When his lips found her hidden pearl and suckled it gently, her legs buckled. He grabbed her waist and sat back on the blanket, lowering her, facing him, onto his raised knees. Trailing his lips over her milky thighs, he parted her legs and kissed infinitesimally closer to her soft womanly flesh while her fingers threaded languorously through his hair, skimming over his ears and the back of his neck.

She had to plant her booted feet firmly on either side of his thighs to steady herself, clutching his shoulders when she felt his breath on her soft folds, when she felt him hungrily tasting her. The sensation was overwhelming-her entire body turned to quivering jelly under his passionate ministrations. Matt could hear her keening as her thighs, her inner muscles, all thrummed and tensed. Finally, Kitty released a guttural cry when his tongue slid deep inside her, and she was overtaken by waves of intimate contractions. She slid bonelessly into Matt's lap, curling her arms limply around his neck. She uttered something that sounded vaguely indelicate to Matt's amused ears, but her words were muffled as she spoke against his neck.

He lifted her flushed face and held it between his hands, admiring her sultry, sated expression. "What'd you say?" He couldn't disguise a little grin.

"Nuthin'," she smiled lazily as she pushed him slowly backwards onto the blanket. She stood, grunting as she lifted one of his giant, booted feet and tugged, pitching the scuffed leather to the side, then moved on to the other. She stood catching her breath, her hands on her hips, the afternoon sun slanting behind her, catching fire to her copper hair, the light revealing her flawless silhouette to his gaze through her gossamer chemise.

He murmured, "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met, Kitty Russell."

She paused, biting her thumbnail. "You've never even seen me gussied up, Cowboy." Her hands automatically reached to smooth her tousled hair.

"Oh yes, I have."

Frowning, she pulled the tie from the end of her frayed braid and began combing out the ropey strands with her fingers. "You have?"

"Yep." He gazed at her affectionately. "I think you're the purtiest girl in the whole world, just the way you are now. You're gussied up plenty already."

"Oh, Matt…" she murmured, but he could see fondness in her eyes, hear the tenderness in her voice.

She smiled at him. "Those pants hafta come off."

"These?" He pointed to his trousers.

"Uh-huh… Lift your backside." She pulled on each leg, one at a time, tugging them slowly off his body. Lobbing them unceremoniously to the side, she watched him turn on his side facing her, bracing his head on an elbow. The sight of him completely naked took the breath right out of her. He was all long-limbs and broad-shoulders, narrow waist and rippling muscles. She sighed appreciatively. Every part of this man, every single part of him, was impressively big. Looking at him like this made her tenderest flesh flush hot and ache with need all over again.

"What'sa matter?" He grinned half-heartedly. "You haven't changed your mind, have ya'?"

"No, not by a long shot…" She kneeled beside him, placed a hand on his bare hip, tracing her fingers down his long thigh. Her eyes met his and she spoke, matching his earlier, similar sentiment. "I think you might be the handsomest man I've ever seen in my whole life." A playful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "If I'd said you were beautiful, I might've offended your strong, male sensibilities."

"Kitty, you can call me whatever the hell you like, honey. Right now, I'm just a very happy man."

She threaded her fingers through his, admiring his beautiful hands and long, sensitive fingers. "Can I kiss ya', Matt Dillon?"

He bit his lip, his eyes twinkling. "Come 'ere, Kitty Russell and have your way with me." He released a charmingly boyish giggle as she dipped her head low, silencing him when she kissed him soundly.

Growling deep in his throat, he wrapped his arms around Kitty and rolled her over onto the blanket, hovering atop her for only a few seconds before she was anxiously pulling her lips from his, murmuring, "Matt… I can't…"

He fell back, quietly groaning, "I'm sorry, honey."

She traced her fingernails up his side, over his bare stomach, making him shiver. She whispered, "It's okay." Kitty took a deep, cleansing breath, the air scented with wildflowers and prairie grass and the clean earth. She gazed up at the wide-open blue sky and the pervading sunshine, then down at her concerned lover. "I'm fine, really." She placed a hand on his cheek and smiled softly, her eyes twinkling. "Just lie back and let me have my way with you like you promised."

He began to chuckle, but the sound abruptly died in his throat when she touched her lips behind his ear. She trailed damp kisses over his throat and inexorably downward, circling his taut nipples with her tongue, tasting his salt, breathing his musk. Placing suckling kisses down his belly, she dragged her loosened waves of copper hair over his sensitive skin leaving gooseflesh in her wake as she ardently loved him. She reserved the softest, most reverent kisses for his faded bruises while her heart ached bittersweetly.

He clutched the blanket on the ground beneath him, a moan ripped from his throat when Kitty's mouth touched his silken shaft, her hands kneading his sex. She kissed and laved and suckled him until his fingers tangled in her lush hair. He murmured to her senseless honeyed words interwoven with passionate profanity in equal measure.

And when he was hot and pulsing and hard, she straddled his belly, leaning over to place one more lingering, tender kiss on his lips. He watched, enraptured, as she reached down and clutched the hem of her chemise. Stripping the thin garment over her head, she saw his scorching gaze linger over her bare body, making her shiver with desire. He reached out, tracing her soft curves, kneading and exploring every inch within his reach. She leaned over, letting him kiss and fondle and suckle her full, aching breasts until her center throbbed for him once more. "Oh, Matt…" she whispered raggedly.

"Now, honey…"

Guiding him to meet her, she gasped at the first sweet, tantalizing touch of his swollen member to her wet folds, teasing herself, and him, sighing as she traced his head over her slick, trembling opening.

She willed herself to relax her intimate muscles to accommodate his size as he penetrated her. Kitty's center felt full to bursting and she breathed slowly, evenly, eyes closed, listening raptly to his groans of pleasure. This was the first time in perhaps forever she could remember actually making love to a man, not simply engaging in a hollow, meaningless act. It felt incredibly different.

She was roused from her state of impassioned euphoria by Matt's voice. "You okay, Sweetheart?" he hoarsely asked.

"Yes," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. Kitty was thinking how good and how right Matt Dillon felt, both at that very minute inside her body and by her side every day. Their time together truly seemed like the first honest relationship she'd ever had with a man, the first relationship where she felt like an equal, important and needed and wanted. It was an overwhelming epiphany.

"You sure you're alright?" he asked as he gazed at her shining eyes, ever mindful of his size, never wishing to hurt her.

"Yes," she breathed, leaning forward to graze her lips over his. "I'm fine." She began to move over him, her rhythm slow and gentle. She braced herself by holding his hands, palm to palm, fingers entwined. He watched her undulations, the arch of her back, her breasts and hard nipples jutting forward. He was entranced by her movements, the primal sounds escaping her lips, the look in her hooded eyes.

Her breath quickened as she guided his hand to touch her intimately. He skillfully caressed her with nimble fingers until she trembled and gasped. Matt felt her muscles tightening around his shaft, watched her head drop limply back and heard her urgent cry as her velvety sheath quivered and embraced his own. That pulsing sensation and the sultry look of his passionate lover pushed him over the edge as well. The world around him faded away as he exploded in white light, shuddering flesh and soft groans.

At last he opened his eyes. Kitty was draped limply over him, her skin damp with sweat.

"Are you alright?" he murmured breathlessly.

She languidly gazed at him from beneath heavy lashes. "Never better, Cowboy." She stirred, began to rise.

"Just stay here, Sweetheart." He nestled a hand in the small of her back, rubbing in lazy circles.

She glanced pointedly down at his discolored ribs and then back up at him from behind a curtain of disheveled hair. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No," he insisted contentedly. "You're not hurting me." It had been so long since he had lain with her, touched her, tasted her. He felt he could never, would never, take his passionate girl for granted again.

"Nobody's ever called me Sweetheart before." She snorted and remarked drily, "Nobody that counts anyway." Her fingers lazily traced the veins on his arms.

"And nobody else had better try." His declaration was deep and reassuring, and it reverberated into her ear and outward through her whole body. He amended, "I hope you don't mind that I said that."

Her stomach fluttered, the sensation travelling tantalizingly upward into her chest where it lay, small and warm, peaceful and reverent. Unbidden, those oft-recited words escaped her lips, "Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in my soul…" This time the sentiment took palpable form, not just a fervent, secular prayer uttered into the empty air.

Matt's hand brushed the hair from her face, curiously asking, "What is that?"

She smiled wistfully. "Beautiful words from a poem that helped me hang on when things got real bad."

Matt was relieved to at last understand the meaning of the words that he'd overheard Kitty and Chester sharing when she was still so miserably sick. He'd been jealous of their relationship then, but now that he knew the truth, he deeply regretted how he'd felt. But it pleased him beyond words that Kitty trusted him and wanted to share it with him.

Kitty lay quietly, and Matt could practically hear the wheels turning in her mind. She raised her head, pinned him with an earnest gaze and asked, "Matt, I wanna know how I can help. I mean, what can I do to help out when all the shootin' starts against Blackthorne and his men? If there is shootin', that is."

"Well…" he began uncertainly. This topic had gotten him into trouble earlier. He didn't want to make Kitty mad again. "I do have some ideas for what I'd like you and the other ladies to do."

"Try me." Her eyes twinkled at him and one corner of her mouth crooked up in a mischievous smile.

"Well," he began a little nervously. "How'd you feel about bein' my deputy, Kitty? I'll have a jailhouse, hopefully full a' prisoners, and they'll need guardin'."

Her brow raised and her eyes sparked with interest. "Can your deputy still kiss ya' when she wants?"

"Oh, I believe that can be arranged…"

tbc

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